


Heat

by HouseofTheBear



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Erotica, F/M, Oral Sex, Passionate Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2019-09-02
Packaged: 2020-10-05 20:40:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20494991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HouseofTheBear/pseuds/HouseofTheBear
Summary: Heat n. 1. a marked or notable degree of hotness. 2. intensity of feeling or reaction: passion.





	Heat

**Author's Note:**

> I purposefully left out a few tags on this story because it would give away a key narrative element. However, the tags I have included cover the main elements. Enjoy!
> 
> One last note...a big special thank you to @clarasimone for your amazing support, creative and noncreative camaraderie, and beta work.

The place was strange yet familiar. The air was hot, stiflingly so, with no breeze to break up its oppressive monotony. Standing outside of her tent in the Khalasar, Daenerys held up her hand to shield her face from the sun, the wavering heat rolled up from the cracked dry earth, making the people and objects ripple unnaturally. The one person she sought she didn’t see amongst her people. _Where was Jorah?_ Her exposed skin baked under the sweltering rays and she wanted nothing more than to return to the shelter of her tent, but a desire within her overruled that need. She went to find him, weaving through the tents, but her people looked right past her as if she wasn’t there, a ghost moving amongst the living. _What is going on_, she thought. She was confused for only a second and then she saw him. He looked proud and tall astride his bay stallion, his yellow shirt clinging to his torso, no doubt from sweat. She felt the prickling of her own down her spine, but her body was filled with a new heat at the sight of him. She wondered if he wouldn’t see her too, that she was trapped in some odd dream-like world she couldn’t escape. But the sliver of fear disappeared when his eyes locked with hers and he smiled; the small comforting one he always showed only her. But then it faded, his eyes scanning her face and most likely noticing her slight confusion. He pulled back on the reins, his horse halting a few strides later. He dismounted, letting the weathered leather bridle fall from his hands to hang over the steed’s neck. He strode to her with purpose, his hand resting on the grip of his sword. Each step made her desire grow, the subtle movement of his hips, accentuated by the weapon fastened there, exuded masculinity, power and strength. His shirt hung open in a deep V, giving her an eyeful of his chest, her fingers itching to feel the fur there. His bronzed skin shone in the sun, and as he drew closer, the striking blue of his eyes made her lips part.

He stopped before her, and with a slight bow of his head, said, “Khaleesi.”

“Jorah,” she replied softly.

He blinked in realization that she had dropped the ‘Ser’ from his name and he tilted his head slightly in question, “Are you all right?”

“Never better.” Her eyes began to move over him, which caused Jorah to shift uncomfortably from one foot to the other. Then she turned and said over her shoulder, “Follow me.”

The pebbles and dirt crunched under his boots as they returned to her tent, his hand holding the flap aside so she could enter first with him following after. There was a moment of awkward silence before she smiled at him, one eyebrow delicately arched, “You seem confused, my bear.” 

His laugh was nervous, his brow crinkled, “I dare not admit it, but I am.”

She approached him slowly, “Why?”

He shifted again, “First, you address me only by my given name, then you christen me your_ ‘bear_’. It is all quite…_strange,_ Khaleesi.”

Her eyes moved over him again, but when they met his this time, they were heated with desire. Jorah blinked, disbelieving what he was seeing. Her hand reached out, tracing feather light over the open edge of his shirt. He swallowed audibly before his lips parted; his body the picture of tension. 

She stood so close to him now, his virile scent filling her senses. She found she wanted it all over her body as much as she wanted his mouth on her. When she met his gaze again, there was no longer any confusion there; his eyes were aflame for her now too. She rested her hands on his sword belt and slowly ran them over his strong flat belly to his chest, where she splayed her fingers over the broad muscles there, his ribcage expanding in a deep breath under her hands. She sighed, “When you wear this tunic, it is a temptation I have to touch you like this. To feel the fur of your chest that peeks out here,” she whispered, running a finger through the soft hair at the opening, “to taste the salt of your skin at the hollow of your throat. I dream about you, Jorah. And when I awaken, I find my fingers between my legs, soaked in my arousal, bringing myself to completion at the thought of you. That it is your tongue, instead of my fingers, pleasuring me there.”

Jorah swallowed thickly at her admission, his breath coming fast. She saw now that he knew what she wanted from him, his hands reaching out to pull her against his body, “Had I known, I would have knelt before you and given you your desire.” 

Her nostrils flared and she inhaled sharply, “You know now.” The look she gave him was lustful, but it was almost as if she were challenging him. And it was one he accepted wholeheartedly. 

Only a moment’s hesitation and then his lips were on hers, their kisses rough and deep, their tongues dueling. She was moaning into his mouth, clinging to his broad shoulders for support for she knew her legs could not hold her up. His passion made her dizzy, she had not expected Jorah to be like this, desperate and craving her like she was the only thing that gave him life. His lips moved over her throat, his beard rasping her delicate skin, his hands seemingly all over her at once. He dropped to his knees before her, his eyes telling her exactly what he had in mind.

Jorah was not so gentle with her, tugging her leather pants down her legs and off with an urgency that made her sex clench and slicken further. He did not stand once she was nude from the waist down, his eyes following the curves of her body until they met her own. She swore he could set her being on fire with the heat burning in those usually cool blue depths, “Khaleesi, I must taste you.”

She only had time to gasp before his hands grasped her hips and he brought his mouth to her glistening sex. The first swipe of his tongue had her reeling, her legs shuddering and going weak, bearing her to the floor. Her hands burying themselves in his coppery curls, his groan resonating within her, his eyes meeting hers over her body before slipping shut. He ravished her, licking and suckling like a man starved. It was a feeling unlike anything she had ever known; the wet heat and pressure of him so dissimilar to anything she could do to herself. But when his tongue greeted her pearl for the first time, she arched and moaned wantonly, her body trembling under the fierce sensation. Her whole body tingled in a way she had never experienced and the corners of Jorah’s eyes crinkled, knowing that what he had just done would make her shatter for him if he continued. And he did, circling and flicking with a gradually increasing speed. She dug her heels into the woven rug, the scratchy fibers rasping her bare bottom as she pressed her hips into the floor, her body restless beneath the exquisite pleasuring of his mouth. She felt all of the shivering fire under her skin slide along her nerves and muscles on a lazy journey to her center, her mind realizing that she needed something _more_ to truly set her body alight with bliss.

“I want your fingers inside me,” she begged, her voice sounding strange to her ears, husky and needy.

He sounded every bit like a bear just then, his chest rumbling with wild noise, two of his deliciously thick fingers slipping effortlessly into her. He curled them, finding a place that made her walls both clench and swell simultaneously around him. She groaned, tipping her head back, the muscles in her legs beginning to spasm of their own accord. Daenerys swore that he had pleasured her a thousand times, what with the way he knew her intimate flesh, his fingers and tongue touching and licking her as if from practiced memory. But she shouldn’t have been surprised; she and Jorah shared a connection that no one could understand, a deeper love that neither of them dared give voice to. They held it in their hearts, but their eyes always said what they couldn’t. And his heavy-lidded gaze did now, his tongue inscribing his love and lust for her in an amorous script over her pearl, drawing her into the swirling abyss of ecstasy. Her breath came in short gasps, her walls clutching at his fingers, begging him not to stop in the same way her panted plea for him to stay right there and go faster did. He gave her what she wanted, as it was Jorah’s vow: to serve _her_ in whichever way she desired. 

“Oh Gods, Jorah,” she moaned, her fingers rhythmically twisting in his hair. She was on fire for him, a dancing dragon flame only he could tame. Then it was like falling, time stood still then swept past her in a rush. Her eyes shut tight, her body bowing, the tightness in her belly snapping. She pulsed around his fingers, her copious wetness coating them and trickling down onto his palm to wet the wraps that covered him there as he continued to draw her release from her, extending the pleasure. She whimpered and panted his name over and over again, her peak seemingly never ending. Her body writhed against his mouth and she was torn between holding him there for more or pushing him away, for the pleasure was nearly too much. A few more strokes were all she could take before she lifted his head from her center. Her arousal shone on his beard and lips, his tongue darting out to lick them.

“I will never tire of pleasuring you that way, Khaleesi,” his voice deep and rough, his eyes blazing.

She struggled to catch her breath, her body humming with residual tiny aftershocks. He knelt there between her splayed legs, his gaze sweeping over her body, “Gods, you are beautiful in the afterglow of your pleasure.”

His voice was tinged with wonder and she smiled softly at him, but her desire flared anew at the sight of his arousal, obvious beneath the protective skirt he wore. She rose on shaky arms into a seated position, her eyes meeting his, “I have no doubt you will be splendid in your afterglow as well, my sweet bear.”

He smirked, his eyebrow quirking but he didn’t respond. She wanted him now, the pleasure he had shown her with his mouth made her need him within her. She busied herself with undoing his sword belts and he chuckled deep in his chest at the struggle of her trembling hands.

He couldn’t help his mild amusement, “Here, Khaleesi, let me help you.”

She slapped his hands away playfully and finally managed to get them undone. His skirt came next, a far easier garment to remove. Soon, only his breeches remained and she undid the lone tie with ease. They slid from his slim hips without her help, but caught on his jutting manhood. She pulled them down, biting her lip as he was finally bared to her. Thick and long, weeping with anticipation, she grasped him in her hand and stroked the velvety hot length. Jorah’s throat rolled and his chest expanded quickly at her small but firm touch, her eyes trying to take in all of the gloriousness of his body at once, but failing. Her mind flashed with all of the ways she could have him and he noticed her indecision. Leaning forward, he wrapped his arm around her waist and hefted her into his lap as if she weighed nothing, “There are many ways for us to share our pleasure, but our first time shall be your choice.”

Wrapping her hand around the leather strap he wore over his chest and putting her arm around his neck, she lifted herself just enough until she felt the pressure of his hardness against her, his eyes looking deep into her own as she slowly lowered herself onto him. She shuddered at the thick feel of him spreading her, his body shaking with restraint. She knew he wanted to bury himself hard inside her, the desire written all over his face. But he held back, letting her take the lead. His tensed thighs met hers; his sac nestled in the cleft of her bottom. She paused; the feel of being one with him nearly overwhelmed her. She had dreamt of this and even thought of it in her waking moments, but now he was hers completely. And the way he looked at her now told her he had been thinking of it too. Using the leverage of his arm and the muscles in her legs built from her time on horseback, she rose and fell over him. He aided her movements, his forearm braced across her lower back, the muscles flexing beneath his shirt. She wanted to see them and she paused so she could take off that golden shirt she loved so much. She tossed it aside and purred at the sight of his bare chest, her hands eagerly exploring him. But it was the leather across his torso that made her desire spike, the strength and masculinity it embodied made her want that from him, to show her the depth of his hunger for her. She took hold of it again and used it as an anchor to take him. She had wanted to take her time, but no longer, she needed him hard, fast and raw. She rode him, her body rising and falling on his cock like the way she moved in the saddle, riding her horse across the plains of Essos at a gallop, the beat of their flesh meeting resembling the thundering of a horse’s hooves on packed earth. Jorah’s hand undid the ties of her horsehair vest, eager to touch and see her breasts. With a growl of frustration, he ripped the fastenings and pulled the fabric from her body before dipping his head and licking the sweat that dotted the skin between her swaying breasts with a long swipe of his tongue. She always knew there was a wildness in Jorah, an animal that lurked in a dark, secret part of him that craved carnal pleasures as much as she did. The idea that he wanted to taste the sweat of her body made her growl too and his eyes flashed with primal heat, his smile dark and wild before his mouth latched onto her breast and suckled her hard nipple then rasped it with his tongue. Her handmaiden had taught her how to draw pleasure from this position, being on top gave her the power of control. And she shifted, angling her hips until she got it just right, her pearl connecting with the bone under Jorah’s skin at the base of his cock with each downward meeting of their bodies. The ridge of his head stroked that place within her just as his fingers had and she moaned at the perfection of it.

“My Khaleesi,” he groaned, “Gods, the way you ride me…”

Jorah could barely speak; their actions clouding his mind. She watched his jaw clench, knowing he was holding back for her. Her pleasure would not wait, the tight coiling heat in her belly begged for release. She leaned back, maintaining the rhythm and positioning of her hips, relying on Jorah’s strength to support her. His hands cradled her shoulder blades and he watched her fingers drop to where they were joined to quickly stroke her slick rosy flesh. 

“Fuck,” he swore roughly under his breath, his eyes snapping up to meet hers.

It was not her tender kind Knight that looked back at her; it was a man, consumed by long-held yearning that had at long last been set free.

His noises of satisfaction spurred her on, eager to give them what they both wanted. She whimpered and mewled, her body riding his without restraint now. She couldn’t look away; he filled her vision with his heaving, glistening chest, his tight flexing muscles, and his parted panting lips. The leather dug into her palm, her grip so strong she thought she might rend the tanned strap in two. But it held firm just as he did, unyielding under the power of their coupling.

She fluttered around him once and she let out a gasping breathy moan, one he answered with a low rumbling sound before he said, “Come for me, Khaleesi, I need to feel you.”

And she was lost, her body shaking in his arms as she cried out to the gods above, both old and new, his name her soft chanted prayer. Her fingers slowed, but her pleasure did not, the waves crashing over her, buffeting her burning body in their fiery pulses. Her senses were gone, consumed by the sensations, but when they finally returned, she found him staring at her, need still alight in his eyes, his cock still hard inside her. She marveled at that fact, her previous experiences had shown her that men took their pleasure without regard and left the woman unsatisfied. But apparently Jorah was not like other men and it brought a sultry smile to her face. He drew her to him until their chests touched, one hand drifting up to cradle her jaw, his kiss matching the passion she had seen in his eyes. It renewed the need in her and she began to move once more, slow, sensual. Now, she let herself focus on the subtle details of their joining, the soft, golden hairs on his chest and belly tickling her skin in the most pleasant of ways. The feel of his slick, heated skin beneath her roaming hands, the play of his lean muscles underneath. His eyes, those beautiful blue eyes, they gazed back at her beneath the soft sweep of his golden lashes, brimming with reverence and desire. Jorah buried his face in her neck, groaning into her silken tresses, his fingers gathering and drawing it out of the way so he could bestow hungry kisses to delicate line of her throat. His teeth gently scraped over her collarbone, her sex clenching around his length. He had no intention of hurting her or leaving any marks, he only wished to tease.

The whole experience was new to her, the position held a pleasure she had never experienced or thought possible. His hands explored her body, cradling her breasts, kneading their fullness, gently pinching her hardened nipples and slowly rolling them. She arched in his arms, willing him silently to touch her more, her body beginning to ride him again. They started slow, but the sight of his tanned hands roaming over her pale skin, the wraps wound around them rough and scratchy like his beard had been against her neck, his panted breath dampening her skin made her impatient.

Jorah spoke, his words were distorted and gravelly, yet the passion of them ignited her. He held her body in his strong embrace, guiding her in their love-making, but seeking his own release now, safe in the knowledge that she was satisfied. But Daenerys instinctively knew her body was capable of another peak, she could feel it growing low in her belly. She needed more and she took his hand to where her body called out to him, using her fingers to guide his own, even though she knew he didn’t need any help. The feel of them dancing on her pearl, the movement of his hips as he took her instead of merely just thrusting, spoke of knowledge born from experience and an understanding that a woman needed to be touched and pleasured, not dominated. There was something about their hands touching her together, a feeling of oneness that brought a bloom of warm affection to her chest and she lifted her head to find his lips already seeking out hers, their kiss intense, messy and zealous. The muscles in her legs burned from exertion, but she didn’t care, she only had one thing on her mind: _Jorah_. His forehead dropped to her shoulder with a low moan, his hold on her tightening. Desperate to feel his release within her, she began undulating her body on each thrust and his moan became a growl that preceded her name, his body shuddering. It had to be impossible, but he hardened further inside her, his arms drawing her almost forcefully down onto him once, twice, a third time before he held her there, his head tipping back, his cock throbbing deep in her sex, filling her with his essence. Jorah was magnificent in his abandon, jaw slack, his brow furrowed, his eyes wide at the shocking intensity of his peak. His gasping moans filled her ears and her body gave itself over to her own pleasure, the force of it much less than before, but still sweet and wonderful in its own way.

“Daenerys,” he whispered low, his lips brushing softly over her skin with tender kisses, his arms now holding her gently, cradling her to him. 

His breathless, gravelly voice was heavy with emotion and she met his eyes, where she saw it shining there too. His fingers caressed her cheek, “Gods help me, but I love you.”

His blurted admission made his eyes widen again before he looked away, worried he had gone too far and said too much. She drew his gaze back to hers with her hand against his jaw, “I love you too, my bear.”

The corners of his eyes crinkled as he exhaled his held breath and leaned in to kiss her once more. This one was slow and full of love before he rested his forehead against hers. She felt him slip from her body and she whimpered at the loss of fullness, which brought a chuckle from him, “We will make love again soon, Khaleesi. Have no worry about that.”

He helped her stand, then he rose from his knees before lifting her into his arms and carrying her to her pallet of furs, laying her down and taking his place by her side. She snuggled against him, her body suddenly consumed by lassitude. 

“Rest, love, I will be here when you wake,” he murmured through a kiss to the top of her head, his hand pulling her leg over his hips and drawing her close. Her vision grew blurry and the heat of his body seemed to disappear, the sound of his heartbeat fading beneath her ear. She lifted her head and found that he was like a mist now, slipping from her fingers until there was nothing but darkness.

***

A loud bang brought her bolt upright in the chair, her eyes darting around to find the origin of the sound. A hardcover book lay open and face down on the floor and she leaned over to retrieve it, the rain still falling outside. She remembered now why she was here in the library; Jorah was with his father, engaged in some sort of father-son bonding activity. Her heart raced, but it wasn’t just from the noise. Her dream and all of its sensations lingered in her body, the feeling of need heavy in her belly. She could tell she was deeply aroused too, her panties slick against her intimate flesh. Daenerys didn’t want to satisfy this need on her own, she wanted Jorah. NOW. Pulling back the blanket from her lap, she stood and went to find him. Surely, Jeor would understand if she stole Jorah away for a while. _Make that a couple of hours_, she mused, giggling to herself at the thought. The game room was empty and so was the sitting room, so she decided to try the garage next. But there was no one there either and she was beginning to get impatient.

It was on her return trip that she saw them exiting the dining room, Jeor barking with laughter at something Jorah said, his hand resting on his son’s shoulder. They saw her at once, a smile on both of their faces, although Jorah’s was broader. His eyebrow arched when he noticed the slight flush on her cheeks, the mood of his smile shifting to one of intimate understanding.

“Jorah,-” she hesitated, realizing too late that she had no excuse to give for stealing him away.

Jeor looked from her to his son and smiled knowingly, “I think Barton and I are due for a pint or two at the pub.”

With a parting look to Jorah, he walked down the hall, hands in his pockets, whistling cheerily as he went.

Her hand covered her face, “Oh gods, he knows I want you right now, doesn’t he?”

Jorah chuckled. “A blind man would know, love.” He stepped to her and wrapped his arms around her, “What has you so aroused?”

“I swear I dream about you _way_ too much,” she said with a sigh.

“Mmm,” he murmured against her lips, “What was this one about?”

“You know that recurring dream I have, the one about the Knight and the fair-haired Queen?” He nodded, so she continued, “I think you can figure it out from there.”

He waggled his eyebrows, “I think I want you to more specific…_Khaleesi_.”

She visibly shivered at the sound of his rich, husky voice saying the title she had revealed to him that his dream persona called her. Daenerys narrowed her eyes at him playfully, then grinned, “Do you still have that tunic from the medieval reenactment thing you went to when you were younger?”

“That old yellow thing?” he asked, his voice surprised, “I’m sure I do upstairs somewhere. Why?”

Her own smile was sultry and she stood on tip-toe to whisper against his ear, “Let’s go find it, my bear. Then I’ll show you what we did in my dream.”

Jorah let out a low pleasured groan, taking her hand in his to nearly run to their room, eager to play out her fantasy.

**Author's Note:**

> So, as it turns out, this is a GoT modern AU deleted scene from 'Blurring the Lines'. I couldn't give that away in the tags because then it would ruin the surprise.


End file.
